


Snapshots of Time XXIII

by hummerhouse



Series: Snapshots of Time [23]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Action, Fluff, Games, Humor, M/M, OT4, Turtlecest (TMNT), cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.Word Count: 1,148 implied OT4 TCest Drabble sets 2k3Rated: PG-13Momentary glimpses of life, captured and placed into an album.
Relationships: Donatello/Leonardo (TMNT)
Series: Snapshots of Time [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/489229
Comments: 19
Kudos: 47





	Snapshots of Time XXIII

** Influence **

Leo’s eyes opened to darkness, his skin registering the warmth of a body next to his. As slowly as possible, he slid a leg out from beneath the covers preparatory to rising.

A strong grip caught his arm and held him in place.

“Don’t get up yet,” Don muttered sleepily.

“You’re a bad influence,” Leo said, even as he heeded his brother’s request. “You don’t go to bed until late and when I finally do get you into it, you don’t want to get back up again.”

“You get up too early,” Don murmured. “How are we even compatible?”

Leo pressed a kiss to his mouth. “That was a rhetorical question, but I’ll answer it anyway. We’re compatible because we love each other, we compromise, and we look out for each other’s best interests.”

“Like keeping you in bed past zero-dark-thirty am,” Don said, squirming in closer to Leo.

** Shrinkage **

“Yeah, you’d better run away!” Casey shouted at the men fleeing across the dock. Glancing over his shoulder, he told his best friend, “Ya’ see them mooks take off? We scared the crap out of ‘em!”

Raph was no longer looking at the drug dealers they’d just chased off because his eyes were on the speed boat they had arrived in. “Dammit Casey, the friggin’ boat’s drifted away from the dock. We gotta go get the stupid thing; all the drugs are still onboard.”

“So we’ll call the cops and tell ‘em where to pick up the boat,” Casey said. “Stopping drug dealers is their job, we should leave something for them to do.”

“As soon as we leave, the guys we just chased off are gonna be back in another boat,” Raph said, tucking his weapons into his belt. “We get the boat, take it someplace else, and then call the cops to pick it up.”

Before Casey had a chance to protest further, Raph dove into the water and began strongly swimming in pursuit of the drifting craft. With past visions of water based misadventures crowding his memory, Casey gave the river a last look of disdain and jumped in.

His cry of discomfort was lost on Raph, who was already climbing aboard the boat. When Raph looked back, he saw Casey paddling in his direction, pushing his golf bag in front of him as he tried to hold it above the water.

“Well, shit,” Raph muttered, starting the boat and turning it around to pull up alongside his friend. Cutting the engine again, Raph went to the starboard side of the boat and reached down to take the golf bag from Casey.

As soon as he was no longer encumbered by the heavy bag, Casey practically leaped from the water to grab hold of the gunwale. The maneuver tilted the boat to one side and would have thrown Raph back into the river if not for the turtle’s excellent balance.

“Gimme a hand,” Casey spluttered.

Rolling his eyes, Raph caught hold of Casey’s lifted hand and yanked him into the boat. Casey fell into the bottom of the craft and curled onto his side, teeth chattering and hands clutching at an area between his legs.

“What the hell is wrong with ya’?” Raph demanded.

“The water is c . . . cold,” Casey answered.

Raph put his hands on his hips and stared at his friend. “So the water’s cold. I’m a turtle, I like cold water even less than ya’ do. What does that have to do with ya’ grabbing your crotch?”

“Shrinkage, asshole,” Casey said, his eyes shooting daggers at Raph. “Shrinkage.”

** Define Cheater **

“Ha, ha! Gotcha!” Mikey exclaimed, slapping the back of Raph’s shell. “You have been tagged.”

“Ya’ little turd!” Raph yelled as Mikey took off running. Racing after his brother, Raph caught up to him as he joined Don and Leo, who he had tagged earlier.

The brothers were playing a variation of a game they liked to call ‘ninja tag’. They had arrived hours earlier at the abandoned industrial park that their friend Casey Jones had once shown them. So far, they had each been ‘it’ for one round and were enjoying themselves immensely.

“Just beat my best round,” Mikey crowed, ignoring the stink eye that Raph was giving him.

“Ya’ didn’t beat anything,” Raph said. “Ya’ cheated. The remains of the silo was off limits and ya’ hid in there to sneak up on me.”

“It was not off limits,” Mikey said. “Nobody said so.”

“We did say that the last time we came out here to play,” Don said mildly. “The silo is just too dangerous.”

“Well nobody put that in the rules this time,” Mikey said.

“The rules don’t change,” Raph insisted. “Ya’ cheated ‘cause you’re a cheater.”

“The hard rules really don’t change,” Leo told his youngest brother. “We make modifications with each round to keep things fresh, but the safety guidelines are steadfast.”

“That makes you a cheater,” Raph said. “Che~a~ter.”

“I’ve still got the best time,” Don said, trying and failing to appear modest.

Mikey glared around at his brothers before addressing Raph again. “Why do you always say I cheat? Don cheats more than I do.”

“I do not,” Don protested.

“Oh, no?” Quick as a flash, Mikey snatched Don’s duffel bag off his shoulder and set it on the ground. Squatting next to it, he pulled back the zipper and reached inside.

“Hey! Don’t mess with that stuff,” Don said, reaching for his bag and getting his hand slapped away.

“Let’s see,” Mikey said as he began taking things out of the bag and piling them on the ground. “Night vision goggles, UV light, surveillance equipment, listening bugs, invisible stain detection powder, wireless mini camera, lock picks, motion sensors, every tool known to man and turtle . . . .”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Don said, crouching opposite Mikey so that he could return the items to his bag.

Standing back up, Mikey looked directly at Raph. “What do you say to that?”

Raph held his hands up. “Ya’ win. Don does cheat more than ya’ do.”

“I don’t always use this stuff when it’s my turn,” Don said as he zipped his bag shut.

“You notice he didn’t say ‘I never use this stuff’,” Mikey said. “Donny should be penalized.”

“Better yet . . .,” Raph slapped Don’s arm. “. . . you’re it!”

He began running and with a gleeful laugh, Mikey took off in the opposite direction.

Don picked up his duffel only to be startled by having it seized from his hands again.

“This time without your bag of tricks,” Leo said with a grin and then he too disappeared.

“No fair you guys!” Don called into the darkness. With a sigh of resignation, he went in search of his brothers.

On his wrist was a mini-tracking device showing three distinctive blips.


End file.
